by David Haynes
He bent down slowly and picked them up. The screen on his cell showed five missed calls. One of the numbers he recognized. The other four, all the same, he didn’t. There were three messages. As he walked toward the truck, he put the cell to his ear and listened to the first one.
“Mercer, you asshole. Where the fuck are you? You said you were going to town to get some parts. That was three fucking days ago. I’ll tell you what you son of a bitch, you stay in whatever hole you crawled into and die. Don’t show your face here again.”
Mercer smiled. He hated Johnson anyway. He wiped the call from the records and moved on to the next one.
“Ray, it’s Draper. Scotty Draper. Listen, I know it’s been a while and things were... But I’ve got us something, something good. Real frontier place and everything’s ready to go. I’ve got the reports in front of me and they’ll give you a hard-on, Ray. Look, it’s... Just give me a call if you’re interested.”
Mercer looked at the phone as if he were hearing the voice of a dead man. In many ways he was.
He climbed inside the truck. This was an unexpected turn of events but not an unwelcome one. The engine started first time, despite the truck’s age, but before he drove away he listened to the final message.
“Ray, it’s Scott again, look I don’t know if you’re on one of your sabbaticals, or maybe this isn’t your number. Or you might not want to get involved in anything I’ve got a hand in. But I’ve been on the claim today and you won’t believe it. It’s like someone bought all the best gear and set it right down for us. Just waiting for us to dig the gold out. There’s even some in the boxes. Anyway, look... if you wanna throw your hat in with me again, ring me back.”
Mercer smiled at the sound of Scott’s voice. He sounded like the excited young kid he’d been when they worked Quartz Creek together twenty-odd years ago. He’d been full of it back then, full of how much gold he was going to line his pockets with, full of his plans for the next season and the season after that. Mercer knew a lot of it was bull, Scott just shooting off and trying to look big. But it was infectious, and his tenacity and force of will were the reasons they had stayed together since. At least until a couple of years ago.
He ended the call and stared at the phone for a while. As of five minutes ago, he was out of a job. There was no way Scott would have got a team together yet. That’s what he needed him for. He had three guys he could bring with him, good guys, but all of them were up at Johnson’s place at the moment. That didn’t matter though, Johnson was an asshole and he was screwing them. They would jump at the chance to leave, to come with him. Then there was the other one. Someone who had been bothering him for a job for a long time now. Someone he had stayed well away from. Maybe it was time they showed him what they were made of.
He pressed redial and waited. He had a feeling he might have to lie about who the final member of the team was. The phone rang for a long time before a sleepy voice answered.
“Ray?”
“Scotty, Scotty, Scotty, how’s it going, man?” He was deliberately loud.
“Good, yeah, good.” There was some rustling in the background.
“You in bed?” he asked.
“Long day yesterday. So...?”
“So what? You got a lady with you?” He wasn’t going to make this an easy ride for Draper.
“You know what. You’ve listened to the messages, you wouldn’t be calling if you hadn’t.”
“Well, my phone’s kinda old and the message, well it wasn’t exactly clear. I don’t know...”
“Come on, Ray! Stop messing with me.”
Mercer paused before he spoke. This was just how things had always been between them and he was enjoying it.
“So, let me get this straight. You go off-grid for two years, nobody hears from you in all that time and you expect me to drop what I’m doing and throw the dice with you again. I don’t know, Scotty. I’ve got a pretty good thing going up here and... well, I’d hate to let Bill Johnson down.”
“He’s a crook! Bill Johnson is the biggest crook in the Klondike.”
Mercer left things hanging for a moment. However bad Scott Draper’s stock was at the moment, Mercer knew the truth, the real truth, not some hogwash made up in a bar at two o’clock in the morning. Teaming up with him again was about as good as it could get but he was going to let him dangle a while longer yet.
“So, tell me about this claim you’re holding the lease on, I could do with a laugh.”
“Black Pine Creek, about two hours out of Chicken. It’s all there, Ray. Dozers, 420s, rock trucks and a plant that can handle four hundred tons an hour without breaking a sweat. All of it brand spanking new. Generators, pumps, wave table. You’ve gotta see the samples, Ray. There’s some good stuff up there and it’s ready to go. We just need a crew.”
Mercer knew Draper well enough to know he was apt to get over-excited once in a while, especially where gold was concerned, but he knew how to plan better than anyone.
“So where’s the catch? Who owns it?”
He heard Draper take a breath before he spoke. Here it comes, he thought. The crippler.
“No catch, seems a bunch of rookies thought it might make a good playground a couple of years back. Did a flit and never looked back.” There was another pause. “Twenty-five percent goes to Burgess, the rest is ours.”
“Dave Burgess? And you called Bill Johnson a crook?” He laughed. If Draper was dealing with Dave Burgess his stock wasn’t just bad, it was rock-bottom.
“Come on, Ray. This is my last shot. Nobody else would even open the door to me. I’m going up there and I want you standing by my side. Come on, just like old times.”
“You talk to all the girls like that, cowboy?”
“Only you, Ray. Only you. You in, then?”
Mercer knew Scott was trying to sound casual but there was an edge to his voice. A nervous waver that he had never heard from him before. He almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
“I don’t know, it sounds good but Burgess? Come on.” He sighed for emphasis.
“Okay, I understand. It’s...”
“Of course I’m in, you moron. What the hell? Miss the chance to work with you again? Are you kidding me?”
“I just thought... well you know about all that...”
“I was there, Scott. Remember? None of that was your mess. You just cleaned it up. Anyone who knows you knew that, but you disappeared without putting them straight. All of the old shits up here couldn’t wait for you to fall on your ass, they’ve wanted that forever, man. ‘Scott Draper finally fucks up, well we knew it would happen sooner or later, didn’t we boys?’ It’s bullshit. All of it.” Mercer could feel his anger rising. The hangover wasn’t helping things. He added,
“Give me a week, Scott. Give me a week to get the team together and I’ll be there.”
“I don’t know what to say, just...”
“Don’t say it then. One week.”
“Where you staying? You got internet? I’ll send you the drill holes and map. They’ve started a cut down by the plant and there’s dirt ready to process. I’ll get the paperwork and the permits and we can be up and running right away.”
Mercer looked at the cracked screen on his phone. Pressing the wrong button on it could send it to the moon in a fireball. His lodgings were a room on Bill Johnson’s site. He wasn’t welcome there anymore. He looked up at the hotel.
“I’m staying at Downtown Hotel, Dawson. I’ll see if they’ve got a computer.”
“Dawson? Enjoy the Sourtoe. Let me know the email address and I’ll send it all over to you.”
“Oh I’ll enjoy it, all right. I might just have a good old chew on that toe. See how it tastes.”
He heard Scott laugh. It was the first time he’d heard the Scott Draper he remembered coming through.
“Ray, you are one sick...”
“Good speaking to you, Scotty. One week from today.” He ended the call, switched off the engine and climbed out. Best way to b
eat a hangover was hair of the dog. Or in this case, nail of the toe.
Tomorrow he would take a drive up to Johnson’s claim, bring his crew back with him and then make the call to the last member of the team. That particular individual might be more reluctant than most about working for Scott Draper.
7
Draper talked to Mercer almost every day following the initial call. In the past he would never have done that leading up to the start of the season, such was the trust they had in each other. But events in the past, the recent past, hadn’t worked out quite as well as he’d hoped. This was security, or insecurity, however he wanted to describe it. It made him feel better though. It also made him feel like a greenhorn on his first season.
He drove to Black Pine Creek twice more, both in one day. He took supplies and made arrangements for fuel consignments to be delivered at regular intervals. He was exhausted but at the same time a familiar tingle of exhilaration was threading through his body.
One thing worried him more than anything else though, and that was the crew. Despite Mercer’s assurance that there was no problem, he knew the other man was holding something back. Draper recognized the names of two of the crew – he’d worked with them many times, steady reliable men who worked hard. He’d never heard of the third and Mercer either hadn’t got a fourth or he was being secretive about it. Either way, it didn’t do anything to calm his nerves.
This was the last journey though. He’d checked out of the hotel in Haines, hitched up the truck-camper and hit the road. It was only just over a week since his first trip up here. Maybe it was his imagination or excitement, but he could feel a difference in the air, in the strength of the pine scent on the breeze and the quality of the light. It also meant the road was busier than it had been on his first trip. The added traffic and the weight of the truck-camper added an extra hour to his drive to Chicken RV park. This was where he’d agreed to meet Mercer and the crew he’d gathered together.
There were only three other trailers in the park. Draper drove his truck to the far end, away from anyone else. Not that he was antisocial but he knew tonight would get loud and he didn’t want to disturb anyone.
He parked up and made coffee. The logistics of setting up a mining operation were endless and exhausting, but at least this time he didn’t have to worry about the equipment. That was a godsend because there was only so far his credit score would take him. He sat back and closed his eyes. Once they were up and running there would be little time for sleep, but he could catch an hour or two now before they arrived.
It seemed that only a couple of minutes had passed before he heard a convoy of vehicles crunching over the gravel toward him. His coffee was untouched and cold but he swallowed it down anyway. For some reason he felt nervous. He wiped his mouth and stepped out of the camper.
It had grown dark in the time he’d been asleep and the headlights of four vehicles dazzled him as they got closer. One of the drivers, the one at the front, sounded his horn and Draper waved back. He guessed it was Mercer.
All of them were driving truck-campers. They parked in a neat row along from Draper.
“Well, well, well. If it ain’t Scotty Draper.” Mercer hauled his six and a half foot frame out of the cab. He was smiling that same half-grin he always wore.
They walked toward each other. Draper was grinning too and he forgot the nerves instantly.
“How’s it goin’?” he asked and reached out a hand.
Mercer took it and pulled Draper forward, almost dragging him off his feet. “Bring it in!” He clinched Draper to his chest and patted him on the back. It made a sound like a bass drum being thumped.
Draper was over six feet tall himself and well built, but beside Mercer he felt small. Not for the first time was he reminded that Mercer had a lot in common with the bear population.
They both pulled back but Mercer held him by the shoulders. “There better be gold up here, Scotty. Bill Johnson was mad as hell about me pulling my crew off his place. Son of a bitch tried to shoot me.”
“I told you he was a crook,” Draper replied. “Don’t worry about the gold. It’s all there waiting for us.”
Mercer shook him by shoulder. It was like being in an earthquake. “It’s good to see you, man. Thought we’d lost you.”
Draper nodded. “You too, Ray.”
A set of footsteps came closer and they both looked at the source.
“You know Jim Flynn,” Mercer said and stepped aside.
Draper took Flynn’s hand and shook it. He’d worked with Flynn on at least ten claims. The man was stoic and quietly spoken. Sometimes, he was so quiet that the only way to tell if he was speaking was to watch his thick, black mustache twitching. It looked to have taken on a silvery tint these days. He wasn’t one for idle chatter and Draper liked him.
“Good to see you, Jim. Really good to see you.”
Flynn nodded but said nothing.
Behind him came Puckett who, although great friends with Flynn, was the opposite in temperament. He bounced over, sniffing at the air as he came. “I can smell the gold, boss. I can smell it.” He shook hands with Draper.
“Still trying to grow a real man’s beard, Puckett?” Puckett was in his early twenties but had been working in gold mines since he was thirteen.
Puckett feigned injury. “Man, that hurt.”
“And this here is Mike Vinson. Damn fine mechanic.” Mercer patted Vinson on the back and he stepped forward.
“Pleased to meet you, Mr Draper. Mr Mercer tells me you can find gold better than any man he knows.”
Draper took his hand. He’d never seen Vinson before, but if Mercer thought he was a good mechanic then he was happy to take that as gospel. Vinson looked to be a similar age to Mercer, Flynn and himself. A long scar drew a groove down his cheek.
“Mr Draper’s my dad, Mike. Scott’s just fine. And as for him,” he pointed at Ray, “you are never to call him Mr Mercer again. He’s not any sort of mister. I’m not even sure he’s all human.”
Mercer laughed. “Might be right there. Met a girl down in Dawson told me I was a bull.”
“You mean she told you you were full of bull, Mercer.” Puckett winked at him.
“I’ll have you know she was a very discerning lady. A woman of taste and sophistication. All class.”
“Man, she didn’t even have her own teeth!” Puckett replied.
“Like that girl in the picture in your wallet. If it even is a girl. I’ve seen some...”
Draper could see where this was going and he was enjoying it, but there was one member of the team missing.
“Anyone else coming?” he interrupted.
Mercer closed his mouth and looked at him in silence for a moment. The others either shuffled their feet in the gravel or looked upwards at the clear sky.
“On their way.” Mercer checked his watch. “Should be here anytime now.”
“Who is it? Do I know him?” Draper asked.
“Not sure, hmm, no not sure you do.”
There was an awkward silence as Draper looked for further clarification from Mercer but none came.
Mercer spoke first. “Well, I was told there would be beer and gold. I ain’t seen either.”
There was no use in pushing the matter. Whoever it was would be here soon anyway.
“Go get your chairs, I’ve got some in the cooler.” Draper climbed back into the camper and smiled. It felt good to be back in the company of men like him; to hear them messing with each and giving as good as they got, there was nothing like it. It was important too. They were going to be living in each other’s pockets for the next three months, maybe longer if the weather held out, and the last thing you needed were men who were apt to fight with each other at the first sign of fatigue. That had happened before. There was no way he would allow it to happen again.
He pulled the beer out of the cooler and stepped outside with his camp chair. Within five minutes, they were sitting in a circle holding their bottles. All they needed
was a fire to complete the picture but that would come later.
“I know we’re a little late to the party but we’re ready to go up there, so...” He held his bottle aloft. “Here’s to a successful season!”
There were murmurs of agreement and a simultaneous clinking of bottles.
“What’re we going for then, Scotty?” Mercer asked. “How much do you want out of Black Pine Creek?”
Draper took a long drink. “Three thousand ounces.”
He wasn’t surprised by the silent reaction. It was a pretty big marker for a man who had been out of the game for a couple of years. And an even bigger stake on a claim that was largely unworked. He looked at Mercer for a reaction.
“Is that all? Three million dollars worth of gold?” Mercer finished his beer and took another.
“Why not? We’ve done it before,” Draper replied. “We both know what that takes, Ray.”
Mercer chuckled. “Yep, we have. On a claim where the pay-streak was as wide as Hawaii. We don’t know what’s up there yet.” He paused and looked at the others. “But I’m sure as hell up for trying. I’ll take a drink to three million bucks.” He held his bottle up and everyone tapped their bottles against it.
“You dig three million out of there and nobody will ever remember what happened...” Puckett stopped in his tracks under a hard stare from Mercer.
An awkward silence followed where the men tried to drink as much beer as quickly as they could. It was not a pleasant moment.
“Here we go!” Mercer jumped up and pointed across the park. “The Draper Crew is complete.”
Draper turned in his chair and watched the headlights wobble across the park toward them.
Mercer stood beside him with a giant hand on his shoulder. “Now, don’t be mad. Just take it easy.”
“What? What are you on about?”
Mercer said nothing as the truck pulled up to the other side of Draper’s.
“Who is it?” Draper asked. The cab was dark and he couldn’t see.
“You’ll see soon enough.” There was a hint of mirth in Mercer’s voice.